The day trip

Once...I was in the town of Bath, UK. I happened to trip on some cobblestones and hurt my knee hard enough to not be able to carry my backpack for about 5 days. I looked at the sign on the front hostel desk that read "trips to Stonehenge, $15 return" daily and for some reason never went. I don't remember why not. It's not like I had something better to do. I always regretted it.

Well..I was able to rectify that one regret...And went to Stonehenge today.(right..uploading with iPad is a bit finicky.. Will sort sizes later..)

Merry Christmas!!

 

Thanks Santa for the Ipad. It's loaded with games, news sites, knitting apps, music, a movie and the new Keith Richard's new book. It'll come in handy for the long flight to London today. 

We're off to visit the fella's family in England..we have a car! Oh.. this will be fun!! The year that ends in adventure starts the next one off right. 

xxoo

flooding in the emerald city

I decided to Pike Market it up for Christmas prezzies.. so I rented a car on Friday night with the intention of driving down to Seattle super early Saturday morning. It didn't go exactly to plan when I slept in until 10 am. But I figured the weekend rental car deserved a journey and I took off for the border and sights south. There's no journey into Washington that could be complete without the obligatory stop in Bow-Edison.

This time I drove past a farm with a wee house front and was selling cheese made on the spot.. Samish Bay Cheese. Amazing! Bought a chipotle Gouda and a herb version and had an amazing chat with the owner Suzanne about how we stay linked to physical locations and how special the Skagit Valley is. As usual, my visit in Edison was lovely and magical. I have made friends with David, the owner of the Apothecary and always stop into Tweets, the cafe that has the very best breakfast I have ever had.

Onwards to Seattle.. which put me in town at 4pm! Um.. I beginning to wonder if I'm going to drive back the same day. But figured I'd Pike Market it up with my 1/2 loading zone only parking spot and fast! I picked up a few of my favorite things to give as gifts and ran for The Crumpet Shop (another spot that never goes unvisited) and found it closed! Not a good thing.. and not looking good for leaving Seattle.

Later in my search for Abita Beer, (that you can't get in Canada- but I really enjoy) that went unfound and I was driving around and saw a neon Abita sign.. it was literally a sign as there was also a free parking spot. It tuned out to be a New Orleans themed restaurant, Marcela's. I don't think Chicken Cordon Bleu is native to New Orleans or creole- but it was delicious. What the hell are Potato Ya- Ya's? I treated myself to bread pudding with whiskey sauce dessert and the drive home was getting farther and farther unlikely.

So, I phoned the only other number I brought with me.. A B&B I stayed in with my mom & sister- Seattle Hill House and the owner graciously agreed to match the cost of a likely less comfortable hotel that would mean I would have to pay for overnight parking in downtown Seattle. Full on chicken, beer and bread pudding I checked into my queen size bed with 4 large feather pillows and private bath. Tucked in with the latest Rolling Stone article on a unpublished John Lennon interview done days before he was killed and listened to the rain hitting the windows. This morning I met a couple from Florida who work for the Home Shopping Network, a couple from Olympia, a woman from Denmark and another from Paris. A B&B trumps a hotel any day.

The rain.. did I mention the torrential rains? It's not alot of fun to carry around you camera in. It makes everything slippery and hard to drive in. I drove though a small shallow lake already. News reports that some road are out due to water coverage. I think it's all south though.I'll make due. I brought my rain coat. I have a few more stops to make..

Watson Kennedy is by far my favorite Seattle shop. I found free parking right across the street. The car will stay there and I'll walk up to Pike, the crumpet shop and the local Lush. I'll bring all my packages back and head north.. back to feuding kitties, knitting projects, familiar blankets and my fella. But not before I visit Fancy, Shmancy and Nancy.. 3 shops doors down from one another and another favorite Seattle thing.

.

life at 17

2008-04-24-0838-05_edited, originally uploaded by jilly71.

Ii was (and still am) crazy about Janis Joplin and had hung all the album covers on my wall.

I was fascinated with the 60's and hippies and had tie died my pants, indian bed spread, peacock feathers, bean bag chair and beads.

That's Raven, my 1st cat and the apartment I had off of high school property.. because I lived by myself.

I also smoked.

imagine

imagine, originally uploaded by jilly71.

the most exotic carry bag evah

I feel like I need to plan sleep overs. I need to go somewhere with a change of clothes in a bag or something. My latest impulse purchase arrived and it's a mighty mighty bag. Big enough for a lap top, multiple yarn projects, you name it.. it's much bigger and more beautiful than I thought. I love it though. Better get my bohemian rhapsody on for the spring. x

a few of my favorite things...

Every time I see this artist at a Craft Fair, I covet/ admire her porcelain pickling jars. Something about a $40 jar seems to be breach of my Scottish frugality though. But as mentioned to the artist today, she has taken something very basic and a bit thrift store and made it exquisite, beautiful and delicate. I gave have one to my sister last year fro Christmas because it's true Canadiana and i knew she would love it. Today I bought one for myself.

She mentioned to me that she's received a large order from a restaurant to have her Beaver jars as lamps. I told her she should look into trademarking her porcelain jars. 

Very happy to have one now of my own and $40 be damned. 

I'm enjoying knitting now that I took a cool class from Three Bags Full. They sell this beautiful yarn.. Malabrigo Merino wool. I made a yummy scarf in Frank Ochre and bought the Bobby Blue and Forest Green for 2 projects because it's so soft and cozy. It's like cashmere.

I took a sewing class and made these super comfy draw string pajama pants. I came home and found this crazy vintage soft cotton in a floral pattern I picked up at a garage sale and figured I had enough for the pants so I made them again. I can whip these off in 2- 3 hrs. Who wants a pair for Christmas? Just kidding.. I have NO TIME.

There's this great store in Gastown called Old Faithful. They sell these sweet little linen bags which also afront and offend my fugal nature. Unlines and made of linen, they are ridiculous at $25 each. I suppose they have to come all the way from Fog Linen in Toyko, but still. I bought one though, just so I could snip throught the serged seam and unstitch it to cut a pattern and make LOADS of them. Crafty huh. I just have to stitch the original back together again. Oof.

handmade Christmas

Last year I "made" my gifts which meant I framed my photos. This year, my newly refreshed craft skills will be employed. Which means I better get cracking!!!

Liberty in London

IMGP1774.JPG, originally uploaded by jilly71.

Liberty in London have the BEST mannequins. I'll have a few more of these shots, I hope.. Don't suppose I've mentioned.. I'm going to London for Christmas. I'm going with my fabulous British boyfriend who can drive on the other side of the road and knows all the cool spots.

social commentary

Yesterday an old friend of mine died and I found out because it was his Facebook status. I struggle to comprehend that a trivial and meaningless thing as Facebook now involves life changing status updates. I wonder how I would have known otherwise if I didn't have the Internet but then I wouldn't have been back in touch with Chris at all if it wasn't for the great connector- Facebook. I knew Chris really, about 15 years ago. The years between then and now also mean that I'm no longer in contact with any friends we had in common. But.. the Internet-it connected us again, allowed me to send a message to him, put me in contact in other friends and put us back in contact.

And so.. Chris died, but not so unexpectedly. Before he passed away, he was infrequently updating his Facebook status on his deteriorating health from throat cancer. He had courageously posted pictures of the gaping hole in his neck from the throat tumors clawing their way to the surface. He shared the terrible details of surgery to save his carotid artery and he reminded people to have a wake. Incredibly, in it all he kept his sense of humor like this: update from Nov 19: "the fact that 3 people have died in this 4 bed room in the last 48 hrs and I'm still here".


As the weeks went on, the tributes and memories poured in from his friends. Many of them people I knew or "knew of". I read each one, little pictures colored in with words. Snapshots to scenes I wasn't in, parties I didn't go to, gig's I was too young to attend. Some posted photographs and I remembered how I used to know him.

I was in Toronto in July and happened to see him on the street as I drove by- amazing in a city the size of Toronto. I saw how badly he looked. He was in ill health then. He looked like death then. I got in contact and was able to see him and experience both the spirit of Chris as I remembered him and the sense he would be leaving. We walked down Bloor talking of the past, the mundane, the future.  I was grateful to see Chris again and in so many ways, he hadn't changed. He always had enthusiasm and excitement for things he thought were cool. He always seemed to walk quickly, slightly forward as thought he couldn't get to where he was going quick enough.

We walked past a church I had passed on the way to find his apartment. My senses alert and tingled the same way I have always been when aware of making memory yet I had ignored the church. Chris excitedly pointed out the beautiful stained glass windows of what was now an apartment building. "Isn't that cool?" he asked me. We walked near Dovercourt Ave where he was staying and he got excited about a book in a window and we went in an looked at it, he quickly engaged the shop keeper on the attributes of a certain cartoon style that segued into  something political- my mind was elsewhere.. but it was the spirit of Chris- intelligent, always engaging, insightful and talkative that I knew so many years ago.

He bummed some money off me for cigarettes, the irony, and scurried to the phine booth to make a call and probably buy drugs. He'd been an addict for as long as I've known him but I gave him the money. We stood on the corner of Bloor and Dufferin, in the sun as the people streamed past and I knew it was likely I would never see him again and I hugged his tall and always lanky but now bone thin frame for a long time and I started to cry. I told him all the things I thought he would want to hear and things I knew I would regret if I didn't say. "I think you're beautiful and I love you. Your life has already been perfect and thank you for being in mine so long ago." And I said, you're lucky. You're lucky if you get to go. Life is hard and brutal. I wanted him to know it was OK to put down all the pain and I hoped it would mean he could let his heart lift from the weight of his existence and heal.

 I updated my Facebook that it was great to see him sometime later that day. Social commentary. I saw you.. I took some photos..other people see this..you'll see this..Why does anybody put anything on Facebook? To share and connect and keep a tether thread to the lives of others no matter how tenuous. In the last weeks, the updates started to come from his sister and others who watched over him... in the hospital. And thanks to Facebook, old friend, past friends-  people made peace with Chris, expressed their gratitude, love and support and all these messages were read to him one by one as he lay in palliative care. That's a beautiful thing. 

Finally yesterday,  his status was updated by his sister:

Chris Bates Died today, Wednesday, December 1, 2010 - 44 years old

It was as my response said: worst.status.update.ever (and I'll fucking miss you.)

I feel bewildered that I watched his life wind down on Facebook. I saw weekly updates to the situation unfolding with each new refreshed day. We weren't close. I'm not an ex- girlfriend or a family friend. We went to the same gigs, hung around in the same bar and eneded up at the same parties. He wore a red beret and a quick wit, always on the go. He found out where I lived and came around or I invited him to dinner. We hung out a few times and I was about 22. Once, smoking hash and cigarettes, we burnt a hole in my favorite bedspread and messed around. He was probably a drug addict back then and I kind of pushed him away. He came to my door and announced he felt ostracized and I had to look up the word. Last time I saw Chris back then, was at a poetry reading; he spent a lot of time in the bathroom and looking sleepy. I didn't know what heroin was like back then and he left town. 

I never saw or talked to him again for probably 15 years but I watched and participated in the most personal and private event of his life because it was on the Internet, on Facebook. In some ways I'm grateful and in others- I feel the white bright numbness of the burst of hot firecracker fast and brilliant, stunning from a distance. Poetic. Like an over exposed photograph you hold at a distance. I still have that bedspread and that memory of that hot hash burn was as brief moment with someone who also burned hot and fast through his 44 years.  

RIP old friend. x 

storm clouds and easy streets

 I wrote this long winded piece about past boyfriends and what I'd like to affectionately call "the asshole" but really I was channelling my inner asshole and as I discovered recently, there's no point so I've reduced it like a fine balsamic vinegar reduction and summed it up a a few morals of the story..

• You can't stand on the shoulders of other to feel tall
• Know when you're being treated badly and when you're doing the treating badly- stop both.
• If you recognize someone is in pain, don't add to it.
• You'll recognize the friends at the end by the one's that helped you along, not the ones that tried to pull you down as they climbed up.
• Love between 2 people is like a river- you're both the water making the effort to get around each rough spot- it's gonna be fun when you get going. If one of you is in a puddle splashing alone- it's just a mess and you'll go home wet and alone.
• Stop trying to swim upstream- that's just for dead salmon.

"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind." ~ Henri Frederic Amiel

urban wasp, New Orleans

I snapped this on some street in New Orleans. I was intrigued by the locals- people who call that strange city home. Did they come there before or after Katrina. Did they loose everything. Was she a local, a vistitor, or a passing through on my way to the fair kind of girl. I never asked. I just watched her for a few minutes from across the street. I liked her look.


In case you're wondering, it's a bag of HK Anderson braided twists in Honey Wheat flavor sticking out of her bag. Interestingly, a search for where you can buy them in New Orleans brought up only 3 Walmarts. For shame on cute girl shopping in Walmart!

next up.. sweaters

I learned to knit again after a 30 year hiatus. I have knit 2 hats and a scarf so far.

I figured if I can master knit and purl, I can master this..wish me luck.

twhoot twhoo

tea & comfort

Grabbed from here full on..it looked WAY too yummy to not repost. Copy, paste and serve with tea.

Cranberry Citrus Walnut Bread
(adapted from Amy Palanjian's family recipe at ReadyMade)

2 limes, zested & juiced
1/2 grapefruit, juiced
Boiling water
2 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped fresh cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Add the lime zest, lime juice, grapefruit juice and enough boiling water to make enough for 3/4 cupful (for me this was just shy of 1/2 cup of fruit juice + the boiling water). Pour into a large bowl. Stir in the sugar and whisk until cool. Add in the egg and give everything a good stir.

Dump in the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt and lightly mix until just incorporated. Stir in the chopped cranberries and walnuts and stir until evenly combined.

Oil up a loaf tin and spoon in the batter. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. Remove from oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Remove the loaf from the pan and let cool on a wire rack.

it's not cold, that's my attitude

Ohh.. its' so cold.. 

Burrrr..I can't believe how cold it is..

It snowed?.. in Vancouver? OMG 

Ok.. yes it snowed. Yes, there is ice on my scooter. Yes, it won't start. Yes, the temperature dropped to -5 but honestly.. I have to bite my tongue when people in Vancouver complain about the cold. The grass is green under that snow and the roses are blooming up the road. People still sit on heated patios.

I remember when I was growing up in Alberta..losing my house key and being some unfortunate teenager who dressed inappropriately because it was nerdy to have a parka and mitts and snow boots. So, I suffered in Converse Sneakers and no gloves in the garage praying to God to let me live another day so I could learn my science lesson about wind chill without loosing my toes.

I remember snowstorms that shut down the city. Snow drifts so high that my apartment door had to be pushed on before it would open. You didn't dream leave the house without some serious skin coverage, even if I was going to walk the 5 blocks to the local whatever to relieve the boredom. The nose piercing I had back then would freeze in 20 seconds. The tip of my nose a few seconds after that.

I've waited fruitlessly for buses in blizzards, walked in -30 with a windchill of -400, endured having clothing seasons of special protective clothing and huddled in corners smoking with my fingers going numb. (I don't smoke anymore and one of those pitiful scenes of Edmontonians huddled around a ashtray in the arctic winds was a motivating factor of why to quit).

Thus, when you live in Vancouver and it snows for all of 3 weeks and a cold snap hovers around -5.. I have 4 words to complaints about the cold..

We've got it good. (..well my first 4 words were a little bit more colorful than that).

PS. Alberta was the 2nd coldest place on the planet last Tuesday. Stay warm family.
 

"It's like a witch in a white kitten suit."

We're thinking of changing it's name from Plum to Pesto.

new kitten..Plum

siblings

I've always found multiple cats endearing. Silently envied the 'crazy cat lady' who lives with 9 cats. Been enamored by the bundles of kittens curled up together. Have always wanted to have more than 1 cat. So, on a chance stop by the SPCA, deja vu was in the air when a 5month old kitten was available for adoption and looks suspiciously like the cat I already have.

Yes, she's all white, has pink ears, never makes a sound and has big yellow eyes. Yes she's now mine and no, they're not quite friends.. yet.

baby your things

I stumbled upon a pretty Etsy site- someone recycling vintage tribal fabric like Hmong Baby Carriers and reworking them into the loveliest of bags..aren't they amazing?

Oh yeah.. the 1st one? It's mine..!

past posts

I wrote this on 26 April 2007..

The muffled sound of music can be heard. Just audible, drum beats and bass clap their hands in the invisible air. The tiny white ear buds are instantly recognized. A member of the Ipod army. She sits down next to me on the bus. Grey pant suit noticed as I glanced quickly at the filled space next to me. The bus is sweaty with condensation from the breath of so many riders and the rain falling outside. Umbrellas dripping moisture onto paper shopping bags. Manicured nails clutch the tan leather handbag that almost passed as quality, but there's something secretly cheap about mass manufactured goods to appeal to the gleam of high fashion magazine ad admirers. She wears a fitted grey wool coat, blond hair hitting it softly at the shoulders. I glance at her face. Her make up is neither subtle or heavy but almost seems like a toned down version of a garish night out. She looks like a legal assistant with a dark secret. The aroma of music wafts between us and I ponder if she listens to anything else other than heavy metal.